


the leader of the bad guys sang

by youmakemesoangry



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Fake AH Crew, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4239855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youmakemesoangry/pseuds/youmakemesoangry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one would think that of all the members of the Fakes, Gavin would be the one to be the last one standing. No one, except of course, the Fakes.<br/>Because if anyone could somehow, miraculously, make it out of guaranteed destruction, it would be Gavin Free. Out of sheer stupidity, he would make it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In all honesty, the plan could have been better thought out.

Geoff could have been a little more sober. But he wasn't.

Ray could have made sure he reloaded his rifle. But he didn't.

Michael could have tested the new explosives before using them. But he didn't.

Ryan could have kept his fucking opinions of the other crew to himself. But he didn't.

 

Gavin could have saved his crew and they would all still be alive.

But he didn't.


	2. Chapter 2

He wakes up with a horrifyingly loud ringing noise in his head, and pretty much nothing else. He shakes his head, and that just makes the ringing worse, with an added bonus of nausea.

He cracks open his eyes, and that seems to go over okay. He’s looking up at gray smoke. He braces himself, and rolls over onto his hands and knees. He stays there, breathing through the awful ache that seems to take over his whole body. When he looks up, he’s staring at the still burning remains of the warehouse.

The warehouse that had been a trap. A trap covered in C4.

A trap that his crew walked directly into. Oh god. Oh no. No.

He drops to his elbows, and breathes. And breathes.

And he screams. He screams even though he can’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. He screams and he can feel it ripping out of his throat and vibrating from his chest.

He screams because he doesn’t know what else to do.

He screams until the ringing in his ears changes to the crackling sound of burning, and then he sobs. He sobs and it hurts worse than the screaming had. He sobs and tears at the ground and feels the wet heat of the blood from his torn fingernails.

He takes a deep breath, and hears the sound of sirens getting close. He doesn’t think. He runs. He runs away from the warehouse and _oh god_ , away from his crew. 

He runs with no idea of where to go. He runs until he’s lost in the city he owns and runs with his crew and knows like his own house.

He runs until he has to kneel down from the headache pounding in his head, until his lungs burn for air.

He’s in an ally when he reaches for his phone. He pulls it out of his pocket in two pieces, and throws it on the ground, cursing breathlessly. He leans against a brick wall, and smacks his head against it a few times, trying to think.

He pulls out his wallet, hissing at the burn of his broken nails scratching against his jeans, and searches for a card. A card that will hopefully give him answers. Or help. Something.

He looks at it. He weighs his odds. It doesn’t look good.

He's lost with a pounding headache, ringing ears, and the number of an FIB agent who promised to 'help save him from the terrible horrible mean gang members who are obviously forcing him to work for them' and no other options.

So he walks to a payphone, shoves in a couple of coins, and he calls.

And the agent answers.

“Special Agent Pattillo of the FIB.” He takes a deep breath, and swallows.

“Hey, Jack. It’s Gavin.” There is silence on the other side of the line. and he can feel his hands shake. He clenches the one that isn’t holding the phone.

“Gavin Free?” He closes his eyes.

“The very same.” There is more silence. He hopes he isn’t being recorded or traced, but can’t really care much more passed that.

“What happened?” He breathes.

“They’re dead, Jack.” His voice breaks on a sob. He swallows it, mostly successfully. “My whole crew is dead, and I need to find out who did it.”

There is a soft sig of air over the line, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that the agent felt bad.

“And you’re going to help me, Agent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's probably not the story you guys were hoping for, but I had inspiration so I went with it


End file.
